Step Three
by fragileb0nes
Summary: The tables have turned, and it's Lydia who's having some trouble sleeping. Just a little stydia for the hiatus.


Just as sleep was beginning to envelope him completely, just as his senses began to dull over and a blissful heaviness tugged him under the surface, the wretched sound of his phone's default ringtone cracked the silence right open. His hand smacked his bedside table, feeling around for the thing while mumbling curses to himself. The bright screen burned his eyes so he didn't even bother to check the caller's name before sliding the lock bar open.

"Hello?" He said in a voice that was already thick with sleep.

"Stiles?"

His eyes opened wider as he sat up a little bit. "Lydia? What's wrong?"

She exhaled nervously into the phone. "Um, nothing. It's just- hey, do you think you could pick me up?"

"Pick you up?" He repeated.

"Yeah, is that okay?"

He was already up, searching the floor for his shoes in the dark somewhere. "What's wrong?" He repeated his previous question.

"Stiles," She whined. She didn't sound like she was in any eminent danger, just wary and overly persuasive.

"Lydia, don't you think I deserve some kind of intelligible answer? You're the one calling me-" He took a quick glance at his phone. "-at one thirty-three A.M., asking me to come and use up my car's precious gas and-"

"I can't sleep! Okay? I can't sleep." She exclaimed, exasperated.

He narrowed his eyes, even if she couldn't see him. "There's this wonderful invention in the world of non-habit forming sleep aids called ZzzQuil, it's absolutely revolutionary."

"Stiles," She sighed. "Please,"

He stood there quietly in his room for a moment with his lips pressed tightly together. Who was he kidding? It was Lydia. And he could try denying it out his ass all day, but when she said his name like that- he already had his sneakers and zip-up sweatshirt on for crying out loud. "I'm on my way." He exhaled with exaggeration.

"Great," He could hear the smile in her voice. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

* * *

Stiles parked in her driveway and saw no lights on in her house. He watched as the motion censored porch light lit up to reveal Lydia step out her front door and close it behind her. Even in the dark, he was pleasantly surprised by her appearance. She wasn't all done up with a mini skirt and lipstick and heels and not a hair out of place, but all of that was replaced by a creamy colored sweater and black tights accompanied by little flat shoes and hair that looked like it had fallen from whatever styling she'd done that morning. He smiled to himself for just a moment as she neared his Jeep, thinking that he always forgot the heels deceived him from how short she really was.

"Hi," She said as she climbed into the passenger seat, grinning apologetically at him.

"Hey," He nodded.

"Sorry for calling." She said as he put the Jeep in reverse and pulled out of the driveway.

"It's okay," He shrugged. "It's not like I need eight hours to function on a normal, humanoid level or anything."

"I'm sorry," She groaned and paused for a moment before motioning around her head with her hand. "Sometimes, it gets kind of noisy up here."

"Like, bad?" He squinted at the road ahead. He was praying that it wasn't vibes of another oncoming supernatural shit storm. They were finally in a moment of clarity that the gang was praying would last a little while. They deserved that much, at least. The thought then crossed his mind about how loosely the term _'__gang'_ should be used. It was a bit spotty nowadays.

She shook her head and pursed her lips. "People are dying all the time, Stiles." Her words were pained but so matter of fact.

"And you hear them all?" He still had trouble grasping the whole banshee concept and what it had to offer. Even with extensive internet searches that stretched deep into the night, things weren't exactly clear to him yet.

"Occasionally, I guess." She shrugged.

"Sounds like fun,"

"Bunches," She sighed and put her hands on her knees, looking down at them with sadness starting to creep into her eyes. "There have been a couple of nights I can't sleep. It's just kind of annoying to stare up at the ceiling and wait for morning or for the voices to shut the hell up, whichever comes first. I'd always call Allison and she'd watch mindless TV with me until it put us both out of our misery."

Stiles immediately felt regret for being snarky with her. Any talk of Allison made his chest feel tight. It had been a few months, but the icy grief still had a nice grip. He still couldn't imagine what Lydia was going through, he didn't like thinking about it. Thinking about the sore hole that had been punched through her chest by the death of her best friend made him feel his own aching blows to the gut throb just a little more. He looked over at her, even in the dark he could see she still looked sorry for calling in the first place. "Well," He grinned reassuringly. "You called the right guy for the job."

"What do you mean?" She asked, then had her expression turn even more perplexed as Stiles swung into the barren parking lot. "And why are we at 7eleven?"

"Because," He said as he parked and turned the Jeep off. "You need hot chocolate first."

"But it's not even that cold out." She said as she got out and caught up with him at the front door.

He shook his head as they entered. "Lydia, would you please just let me buy you some shitty, heated up chocolate water as step one?"

"Step one?" She followed him over to the wall with the machine that dispensed all the hot beverages.

"Mhmm," He nodded. "One of three."

"Could you perhaps stop being so annoying and just tell me what step one is?"

"How about you just sit back and watch the magic unfold?" He said with a bit of biting undertone in his words.

Lydia huffed and rolled her eyes, following him again over to the checkout counter. She watched him pay for the drink and hand it to her carefully.

"How is it?" He asked as they headed back to the Jeep.

"Fine," She shrugged before taking another sip and getting back into her seat.

"Awesome, step one's complete then." He watched as Lydia made a fist with her hand in her lap and sipped at her drink again. "And," He laughed a little. "Because it's complete, I can tell you my three fold plan."

"Please do, Stiles. What brilliantly idiotic plan do you have thought up?"

"Hey, you called me, remember? Call it idiotic now all you want, but it works. I promise. When I was a kid, before the doctors did my parents the favor of putting me on Adderall, I had trouble sleeping some times. So, to get to me to sleep at least a few hours, my mom came up with this three fold plan. It worked, so I thought I'd give it a shot on you. I mean, you're not a sleepwalking six year old, but I don't think it would hurt to try anyway."

He peered over at Lydia and saw her pursing her lips, nodding. Whenever she was at his house, he caught her looking at pictures of his mom for moments lasting longer than a casual glance. He could tell that she was wildly interested in his mother, considering he brought her up very rarely in normal conversation. He knew she was dying to ask questions but was just too polite to go digging in his old wounds.

"And it started with hot chocolate?" She asked in a soft voice.

"Uh-huh, the next part is a fan favorite. Fan being me, by the way."

"I guessed that much." She chuckled.

Stiles smiled too. This was nice. Despite being ripped from bed to help Lydia on her endeavor for sleep, he was happy to spend some time with her that was normal. There was no pressure for time or a riddle that had to be solved, no one was about to die, there wasn't any tears or bloodshed. Just real but still unconventional quality time. He wasn't so sure at first how their friendship would play out after the chaos was over and their lives entered a weird state of normalcy. What else did they have in common besides an enemy or a goal to end some form of evil? But as it turned out, they didn't need an alpha pack or a dark spirit to still talk and see each other on a regular basis, even outside of school. He could still wave her down comfortably in the halls and she still patiently watched lacrosse practices when she wasn't tutoring after school. She'd even asked him to come over and study with her a few times. He always accepted the invitation, but didn't understand why she'd even ask. She was Lydia Martin and didn't need anyone's help in acing any tests whatsoever.

"The laundry mat, Stiles?" She asked hesitantly as they made their next stop. "This is your favorite?"

"Hell yeah, it almost makes me wish my house didn't have normal appliances."

"What about strangers' laundry is going to make me want to sleep?"

"Lydia," He shook his head and opened the front door of the mat. "You are literally ruining the experience by asking so many questions. Just shut up, okay?"

She grinned at him with narrowed eyes as she walked in.

Stiles led her to the back where the wall of washing machines was. He picked out one of the running machines and leaned back against a dryer in front of it. He looked at Lydia who was staring at him and patted the dryer, beckoning her to lean on it too.

"We're watching clothes get washed?" She asked.

"Yup,"

"Why, exactly?"

His head rolled in annoyance. "Oh my God, it's soothing, I think? I guess."

"Hmm," She shrugged and leaned against the dryer with him. Lydia took a small sip of her hot chocolate and absentmindedly wrapped her arm around his while watching the clothes tumble in front of them.

Stiles felt his muscles tighten slightly when she so comfortably reached out for him. He looked over at her slowly, feeling his eyebrows furrow and his lips part in confusion. But instead of looking back at him, Lydia continued to stare at the rolling sudsy clothes, seemingly unaware of the fact she'd reached out to him. This was another thing he found to be nice. He'd noticed in recency that Lydia liked to reach out for him. Their hands would brush and her fingers would lace with his for a moment. Her shoulder would gently bump his in the halls at school and she'd always grasp his arm in apologies. And this- this effortless touch that made his mind whir faster than normal. He honestly had no idea what it all meant and it drove him a little crazy, but he liked it.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them while still looking forward.

"What am I thinking about?" He repeated and she nodded. "I'm not thinking about anything."

"I highly doubt that." She smirked at him.

He smirked as well and wiped it away with his hand. "I'm thinking that I'm glad you called."

"Even though I woke you up?"

"Even though I was gravely sleep deprived for weeks to the point where I'm still pretty sure I'm catching up on lost hours and had to temporarily share my body with a dark spirit. Even then."

She smiled, he watched as her full lips curved up in a genuine grin. Her grip around his arm tightened just a little more as they looked on at the clothes spinning in front of them.

The cycle wasn't done for another twenty minutes or so, and honestly, it was putting Stiles right to sleep. His eyelids felt heavy and holding himself up was getting to be a bother. Once it was over, he looked over at Lydia, who actually looked pretty tired herself.

"Are you ready for bed now?" He asked.

"Yeah, actually, I am."

"Good," He nodded. "Sleeping is step three."

* * *

They drove back towards Lydia's house with the radio on low volume. Stiles was dying to get back to bed but he was in no rush to kick Lydia to the curb, resulting in a legitimate internal struggle.

"Hey, Stiles," She said slowly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think, it's possible, that I could come home with you?"

He peered over at her to see her looking at him warily with her lips curled in on each other in a thin line. "You want to come to my house?"

She looked away and shrugged. "Well my mom is away visiting my aunt in Portland and won't be back until Sunday, going to my dad's wasn't an option, and I don't want to be alone."

He pursed his lips as his fingers drummed the steering wheel. "Yeah, yeah you can come over if you want."

"Your dad won't mind?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Nah," He shook his head. "He won't. Plus, he's not home either. He's supervising the graveyard shift at the station tonight for some evaluation."

She nodded and grinned appreciatively. "Thanks,"

"Sure," He cocked his head.

Once they were home, Stiles took it upon himself to use every fiber of his being not to make a fool of himself. Sure, he'd dreamed and imagined Lydia spending the night at his house a million times, but never did he actually think she would. And alas, here she was, climbing his stairs with him towards his room.

"Um, you're going to want to change, right?" He said as he neared his dresser, tugging out clothes in the dark and tossing them onto his unmade bed. Lydia flicked on his bedside table lamp. "I don't think it'll match or anything."

"It doesn't need to match." She laughed. "It's pajamas."

"Right," He nodded. "Here, you can change while I go grab you some water." And with that, he was headed downstairs to the kitchen all while doing his best not to go bumbling down the stairs like the fuck-up his conscience was reminding he was. "Be cool man," He mumbled to himself as he poured the water from the filtered pitcher into a glass. He was too tired to make full and coherent thoughts about what was happening. He went back upstairs and found Lydia already changed.

"How do I look?" She asked with a sarcastic and sleepy smile as she turned to him. He hadn't seen what clothes he'd given her until they were already on her. She folded the waistband on his black sweatpants to fit her small hips and put on his old long-sleeved t-shirt he'd gotten at lacrosse conditioning camp a while back. He had to make a physical effort to keep his jaw up. Lydia Martin was standing in his bedroom in his clothes, what weird rabbit hole had he fallen down?

"You look," He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Ready for bed." His face scrunched up at his own answer. What the fuck was going on anyway? He placed the glass on the bedside table. "Yeah, here's your water, if you need anything I'll be downstairs on the couch. So-"

"You won't be in here?" She cocked her head.

"You're in here, Lydia." He reminded her.

"Yeah, I know." She shrugged. "I just thought you'd stay. You know, make sure step three is complete or whatever."

"Oh." He nodded. "Well, um, yeah sure. I suppose I should." _Jesus Christ_, he thought.

"Good," She grinned and sat down on his bed, drawing back the comforter, then looked back at him. "You coming or what?"

"Yes. Yes, I am." He raised his eyebrows, carefully following suit and getting into bed. He climbed in on the side closest to the wall, so Lydia turned off his light again. At first, in the dark, he had no idea what to do, but Lydia seemed to know. She found his hand and draped it over her waist as she rolled over with her back pressed to his chest. The thought of waking up with an unpleasant surprise banged around in his head making him want to move away. But other than that, it was actually overwhelmingly comfortable to have her cuddled up against him. She felt so small, like it was necessary to hold onto her and tangle up their legs together to keep her from blowing away. It was better than anything his hyperactive brain had ever come up with. The urge to back away from her subsided when her body heat started to radiate onto his skin.

"Is this okay?" She asked in a soft voice.

He swallowed and wished his voice had come out sounding a bit firmer, but it hadn't. "Yeah, it's good."

"Good," She nodded, her voice transferring over into a whisper. "Thank you again for tonight."

"Sure," He whispered back. "Anytime,"

"Tomorrow, breakfast is on me, okay?"

"Breakfast?"

"You know, the first meal of the day? The important one."

"I know what breakfast is, Lydia." He narrowed his eyes.

She grinned with closed eyes and shook her head. "I'm tired, Stiles. I think your plan actually worked."

"Told you,"

"Step two is your favorite?"

"Mhmm,"

"Well," She sighed. "I think step three is mine."

He swallowed again. "Yeah, it's not so bad."

"Hope it works next time, too."

"Next time?" His whisper came out harsh. He felt like an idiot for repeating everything she said, but his sleepy mind needed more time to process.

She didn't answer him. Apparently sleep's pull on her came hard and fast, and she was already down for the count. He stared at her face, her pretty and peaceful face. A warm relief pricked him when he saw how the weariness and grief and fatigue was all wiped away, replaced by some much needed sleep. She looked like a misfit porcelain doll that was too easy to crack, that needed to be taken care of.

Despite being exhausted, Stiles' consciousness lasted a few more minutes. He was confused and excited and incredibly drowsy but also curious. It was all a little too much to think about. He'd think about it later though, a lot. But for now, all he had to do was sleep- sleep next to Lydia. As he faded out, his last thought was a hopeful one. One that wanted her to pick up the phone and give him another insomniac call incredibly soon.


End file.
